


Damned if I do, Damned if I don't

by Anxious_Ace



Category: AO3 Tags
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxious_Ace/pseuds/Anxious_Ace
Summary: A collection of possibly distressing poems and journal entries; I don't expect anyone to read this. This is really just a place to dump my feelings and thoughts from my PTSD episodes along with depression in general. This could be triggering if you have been through similar things. Some topics include sexual abuse/assault, emotional abuse/psychological abuse/manipulation, body dysmorphia, anorexia, anxiety, panic attacks, death, suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts, child abuse, etc. I'll put the main topic in the chapter name. There's no guarantee that there will be happy poems but as i move on and work through my own issues, well I have become more optimistic about my life.I understand some people will still read this, as I was one of those people who was suicidal and read depressing poetry books and stories to relate and feel something. To feel less alone and crazy. So if you read this, thank you. If you can't I understand and I don't want anyone to trigger themselves by reading these. Most of this will be feelings not explicit details but it could still be upsetting. Thank you.
Kudos: 5





	1. Mentally Ill

**Childhood Trauma**

Deep depressive waves wash over the little girl. 

She’s just shy, not very social. 

Looming towers of anxiety built around her; 

No rose-colored glasses to look out of, be social. 

Two girls sit up in her room, within a second she’s pinned down on the bed; 

She tried being social. 

Hard to be vocal when that same girl tried to slit your throat 

For going to a social. 

Locked behind linoleum walls, screams run down the halls. 

Poor, Jenn, you were too anti-social. 

**Mental Illness**

What kind of excuse is that? 

You never socialize. 

Something is ALWAYS wrong. 

It’s all in your head. 

You never socialize. 

Just do it, it’s not THAT hard. 

It’s all in your head. 

You always cancel plans. 

Just do it, it’s not THAT hard. 

Why are you being so manipulative? 

You always cancel plans. 

I don’t care to hear about your past trauma! It’s too sad, and I have no time for it. 

Why are you being so manipulative? 

Something is ALWAYS wrong. 

I don’t care to hear about your past trauma! It’s too sad, and I have no time for it. 

What kind of excuse is that? 

Something is ALWAYS wrong. 

Everybody has anxiety! 

Everybody gets depressed! 

What kind of excuse is that? 

**Ghosts**

Home is... 

broken 

dysfunctional 

toxic 

Home is...

screaming 

arguments 

disappointment 

Home is...

blood 

tears 

Home is...

empty fridge 

junk food 

Home is...

nothing new 

hand-me-downs 

torn-and-worn-down outfits 

Don't make me go home... 


	2. Childhood Trauma

**Memories Never Fade**

I remember running, then falling down the stairs on Christmas morning, 

such a loving and supportive family. 

I remember being so happy to get a new doll once a month, 

Daddy just lost his first job. 

I remember playing with monster dolls and little animals after a rough day at school, 

sitting outside in the car while my grandma got her chemotherapy. 

I remember putting on fashion shows anytime I got new clothes, 

Grandma hasn’t been home in a few weeks. 

I remember standing on a cherry red pew and singing loudly, 

doubts in my religion slowly sinking in. 

I remember sitting on my knees and begging God to save my grandmother, 

asking him why the fuck he gave her lung cancer six years ago. 

I remember feeling numb as I was forced to go to middle school 

all I wanted to do was lay down beside her rotting cancer-filled corpse. 

I remember picking up the black puff ball the summer before junior year, 

Finding out my dear cat Bear had a life-threatening disease. 

I remember spending every last dime and penny on my cat, 

pissed that leukemia came back to steal someone away again. 

I remember her getting me through my first year of college, 

before we found out about the cancer that had been slowly killing her. 

I remember being so broken, 

until her paw held my hand through the glass. 

I remember being so thrilled to pick up the tortoiseshell cat, 

holding her against my chest and hoping she was okay. 

I remember holding my breath while I waited for the bloodwork, 

and feeling my heart hurt as they showed me how to give her insulin. 

I remember her energy coming back, 

giggling as she zoomed through the rooms and doorways. 

I know I’m not okay and things aren’t great, 

but she is the one thing that can make my day a little great. 


	3. Triptych Suicidal Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A triptych is a three part poem that moves from one idea or event to another. This is also used in art pieces and such things. (that's not an exact definition just what i remember from class)

**Silent Suicide**

a girl stands with a full bottle of pills in her right hand, asking herself if it will work; 

while another girl stands on a ledge, tightening the Christmas lights around her throat. 

the two of them have never met, but they are connected by a single red thread; 

a piece of string that was delicately tied around their fingers but never to be seen. 

two parts of one star that were broken in half at birth, shipped off in opposite directions; 

only fate can see the ruby strand that tethers them together as they follow their orders. 

one girl loses her mask while the other girl’s mask dissolves from her face 

it shows how they really feel as they frantically work to hide it once again. 

**Bulletproof Walls**

a girl goes day in and day out with the five-year weight of her pain piled on her back; 

while another girl dates someone who hurts her every day for almost a year. 

the two of them will meet, but they need to fall apart completely first; 

fate hates this part of their job but it’s the curse of the Red-String picking soulmates. 

they thought life was the rapid up and down of a rollercoaster but found out it 

is more like the plummet down before evening out and ascending again. 

pain is a way of showing someone the way to find out who they truly are 

even if they don’t want the strength thrown onto them; they desire happiness. 

**Red-String Soulmates**

a girl starts to seek out love, getting hurt until she’s tired of it and builds herself up; 

while another girl is hurt more than she ever was before, trying to push forward. 

the two of them meet, finally, finding an instant undeniable connection; 

fate watches as the two girls fall in love too fast for most people’s comprehension. 

a girl finally feels alive, not being constantly drowned by her trauma as 

another girl helps them both heal; they each want a life together. 

some call them silly, while others hope they get torn apart once again; 

but they know in their hearts a single red thread ties them to each other, forever. 


	4. Women Loving Women

They say she has “crackhead energy” because she is hyper after eating too much sugar. They say that she shouldn’t d y e her hair or have so many piercings. Screamed and threw  bruises like boomerangs all because she said she was gay. Pushed her down so far , they swore she was going into hell for being her honest self. They told her to crawl back into the closet and shut up; guns ai med to her head as she refused to take another step back.

I saw a girl tug along the string of fate until it slammed us into each oth er. The walls around her heart as big as mount  Everest , detrimental to even try climbing. Yet, the harder it was to breathe, the easier climbing came to me. Perhaps it was the ribbon tied to my finger guiding me along the way. After the journey, I found a girl broken beyond words. Shredded to dust with nothing but a pile left.  We took days just remaking her out of the ash; like piecing together a thousand-piece puzzle. She lacked patience but I had plenty to give away. She was so close to heaven she radiated an ethereal light more beautiful than ever seen before . I swore I saw wings before they were locked away in the darkest corner of her mind.  She was still kind despite being battered and constantly fed lies. 

The girl’s eyes were so tempting, how was I not to dive in  headfirst ; t hey were deeper than  Outerspace , held more knowledge than all the history of time , and more hazel than all the trees i n early autumn . As the waves of memories tried to drown me, I realized there was no going back. I would never be able to live without her ever again. She had created her own home in my heart, fully furnished and filled with cats. She once asked me if I found her attractive, which was an absurd question. She could n’t see half of what I saw because she hated herself. All the little things that I loved, she hated more than anything.  She was a goddess that I wanted to worship for the rest of my life; let her  see just how gorgeous she is in my eyes . She refused, grabbing my hand and yanking me up to walk with her. 

We walked, hands intertwined, heads held high as  they tried to yell and throw things at us to push us over the edge. Yet, we stood tall as we braced the harsh world; she was my sliver of hope , a  real-life symbol of the idea that things can get better. We will be fighting for the rest of our lives, but we are no longer lumps of dust; we are made of  obsidian  and stronger than a tsunami.  We are not alone; we are surrounded by hundreds of thousands of others who have been cast aside their whole lives .  We can’t choose who we love, but we can choose how we live. We choose to love wholeheartedly, stand ing  up for ourselves , and pursuing all life has to offer . 

©Jennifer Albaugh 2020


End file.
